


Something Sinister

by Hunterisdone



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)
Genre: (writer doesn't actually hate Tony or the Avengers), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, My First Fanfic, Mysterio also never revealed Spider-Man's identity, Mysterio never really "died", Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has PTSD, Peter blames himself for Quentin's death, Poor Peter blames himself for everything, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Spider-Man: Far From Home After-credits never happened, Tony Stark hate (from Quentin's POV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 18:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19817722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hunterisdone/pseuds/Hunterisdone
Summary: After the events of his vacation, Peter is having trouble sleeping - a man died right in front of him on his watch. Spider-Man was supposed to catch the bad guys, not kill them - right? Quentin Beck or "Mysterio" was a horrible, terrible manipulative man so why did Peter feel so broken after his death?-Elsewhere, a dead man is enjoying a coffee when another man walks in with a proposition... he's putting together a team to finally take down the Spider once and for all and needs his help...





	Something Sinister

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever public fanfic - please go easy on me but also please leave a comment on how I can improve or correct any mistakes I've made.  
> I absolutely loved Far From Home which was weird since I hated Homecoming lol. Mysterio is now one of my favourite MCU villains and let's be honest... there's no way he's really dead - he's the master of illusion! 
> 
> Quick little reminder, for this fic to work just forget the after credit's scene (yeah, that once O_o) ever happened and this takes place sometime after the movie- not straight after.  
> Anyway, please enjoy... :)

He had had contingencies, sure, but Beck had never actually expected to lose, not to a spandex-wearing moron. And certainly not to a _child_. It was clear to him now he had underestimated Peter as the boy had beaten Mysterio in his pyjamas – all he had had to do was close his eyes. Seriously, how was Beck supposed to plan for a something he didn’t even know about, whatever it had been (some kind of sixth-sense?) had managed to ignore the illusions Mysterio and the crew had put so much work into. Beck was just glad he had managed to escape alive; he really had at one point liked Peter, that _was_ until he insisted in getting in the way. Even after Beck had made it abundantly clear Peter should have just enjoyed his vacation.

Maybe if that girl hadn’t found that projector, everything would have gone to plan; he would never have been forced to try and kill the boy and perhaps maybe they could have ended up being… friends. From the minute Quentin had met Peter, he had liked the boy despite the awkwardness the boy seemed to radiate. He really had found it sad he had to betray the kid who clearly wore his heart on his sleeve – Peter had opened up to the illusionist with little poking making it just too easy to earn his trust. If anything, people who spewed their hearts out like that were going to get heart if not from Beck, but from anyone they spoke to: it was inevitable. If everything had managed to go to plan, he could have stayed as the neighbourhood ‘Spider-Man’ whilst Beck quietly took back the technology and power Stark had stolen from him – no one important had had to die.

Though, after what was their ‘last’ fight, Beck wasn’t so sure he would be so merciful with Parker now – the love Beck had once felt for the boy was long gone and replaced with loathing. The boy had had to just ruin everything because of his misplaced love for Tony Stark. London could have rebuilt – it _would_ have rebuilt – as it would be listening to him… Mysterio: the world’s mightiest Avenger. A hero even mightier than that thief Iron Man, more loved than that fool Captain America and more powerful than that self-righteous Thor.

But now? Peter had forced Quentin to live his life stuck in the shadows once again – just off stage and out of audience view. What kept him going was every lovely thought of revenge; his coffee tasted sweeter with every possibility of ruining Peter Parker’s life just like how he had ruined Quentin Beck’s.

Faking his own death really hadn’t been difficult, in fact, it was a point of pride every time he saw the news or passed a newspaper stand. The only downside he had realised, was being dead meant he couldn’t show off to anyone since, as of London, Quinten Beck – and by extension, Mysterio – was officially dead after being killed in battle by Spider-Man. He was dead to the world and even he wasn’t vain enough to compromise the perfect stage exit to feed his ego, he knew when to stay behind the curtains. It wasn’t where he wanted to be, not by a long shot, but it _was_ more preferable compared to inside a prison cell.

Though, now he had had all the time in the world to think his next plan through, maybe behind the curtains would be more fun – the power to ruin Peter Parker’s life without him even knowing a thing. The possibility of driving him insane ‘from beyond the grave’ with a man he believes he’s responsible for the death of was just too good for Beck to say no to. Although Parker had not pulled the trigger, Beck would be damned if it wasn’t his fault the drone had even hit and shot him in the first place. Sure he was in the strike zone but it was Spider-Man who had taken the drone and moved it, changing the firing line.

Regardless, the constant pain that racked his body only fuelled his hate and served as a constant reminder of the revenge his conniving mind demanded. Just the thought of the wall-crawler made him– Suddenly, with the slamming of his fist, the surrounding café ground to an ugly dead halt as all eyes were turned to him. For a dead man, he sure had a lot of witnesses, but, luckily for this dead man, he didn’t need to kill these civilians, for none of them knew just _who_ they were looking at. With a little too forced smile, Beck looked around before waiting for the moment to die as he glanced around shadily checking for anyone with even a hint of a suggestion in their eyes – they would be the civilians he _wouldn’t_ mind making disappear.

As he glanced around, he noticed something which made his nose crumple; making a beeline for his booth was a tall man, his very walk eradiated the presence of a someone who held himself high. Beck could have sworn he could see the man’s ego trailing behind him as he strode confidently between tables occasionally flashing fake smiles to the dinners. The cliché reporter hat and trench coat covering his clothes was the opposite of inconspicuous as the movie-obvious-shady-man appearance of the man was only a magnet for people’s stares. Sighing at what could be the end of hiding in plain sight, Beck hid his head in his hand as he tried to hide his face whilst stirring his coffee with his other hand in an effort to appear as normal as he could.

When the man cleared his throat, Beck felt his eyes screw up slightly in a sudden wave of anger, life after death was supposed to be peaceful; this was proving to be anything but heaven. With a deep breath to cool himself and save public face, he dropped the spoon into the mug before facing to look the man dead on as he began to speak.

“Ah, mister Rudolph Hines,” His voice sneered as if telling an ‘in-joke’ between friends, a joke Beck didn’t think was funny when it clicked that this man knew who he was. Who he _really_ was and there was nothing he could do about it, “Or should I say Nicholas Macabes or do you now prefer Ludw-?”

“You’ve made your point,” Beck growled at the man clearly trying to make a mockery out of him, “Going to sit down and get to the point or piss off?” Something was annoyingly familiar about this man; Beck felt he should have recognised him, but he couldn’t place the familiarity beneath his thumb.

Sliding on to the bench opposite him in the booth, the man remained just as mystifying as before; illusions were only fun, thought Beck, when he was the one on the other side of them, “You’re slippery, Beck – _good_ even – but not _good_ enough. Yet, I must still applaud you; you’re looking rather chipper for a man _who’s dead_.”

“I’m the master of illusion, people will believe what I want them to and right now they _will_ believe Mysterio is dead,” He hissed, mind reeling back to his explosive rant to his team as they doubted his leadership with the drones. He had backup plans for his backup plans – there had been no way Parker would have come out of that fight as an ultimate victor. However, unlike Peter, Beck couldn’t just be blinded by well-placed flowery words, “But cut the flattery, what is it you want exactly? I went great length to _disappear_ ; if you’re here for me, it must be good to make the grand effort”

“Straight down to business – I like it. And what is it I want…? Well, let’s see… You have the whole world convinced you’re dead, you’ve made the public doubt Spider-Man and, best of all, you’ve made the web-slinger doubt himself. Then, to top it all off, you’ve come out relatively unscathed,” The man waved a gesturing hand towards his chest before they settled clasped on the end of the table, “So to answer, yes, I have something _good_ in the works,”

“I’m listening but can’t help still wondering…” Said the villain as a crude smirk grew on his lips. Casually he took another sip of his coffee deliberately as slow and drawn-out as he dared before finishing, “…What is it you want from me? _I’m a dead man_.”

“As much as you like being the centre of the attention, Beck,” The man said professionally smooth as he rolled his eyes at the newspaper left on the table across from them with **_MYSTERIO: THREAT OR HERO? BECK’S TRAGIC TALE TOLD HERE_** written in big, bold unmistakable lettering. “You’re not the only one who has tangled with Spider-Man – though you have been most successful so far,” At Beck’s raised eyebrow, the man chuckled before quickly adding “Poor choice of words, I mean the only one to get away.” That raised more questions for Beck but his company had already resumed his sales pitch, “But that’s hardly the point, don’t you see, there’s a growing number of people with an axe to grind with the pyjama-wearing fool. Alone they don’t stand a chance… but a, well… _team_ working together? The kid doesn’t stand a chance against all of them!”

“Interesting idea,” Beck mused, “But I don’t have any of my equipment although… I did keep my suit _as stupid as it was_. But what can I say; I guess I’m a sentimental man.”

“Good. Though don’t worry about your fancy equipment; that’s where the interdependence of the team comes in; I have something you need and you have something I want. I can provide all your funding and technology – I can give even you the best private lab – all you do in return is-”

“Give you the kid’s name,” Beck finished, not sure how he was supposed to feel at the evil smile that looked back at him expectantly – he hated Parker and, at the time, been willing to murder the little runt. The problem was something didn’t feel right as, if he was going to sell out Parker, he sure as hell wouldn’t waste his one bargaining chip in a murderous haze. To kill Spider-Man would require careful planning and consideration – and the right people and to find those people took time. Perhaps Beck would take some time to tattle – some _persuading_.

“Exactly, the old _quid pro quo_. I’ll provide you with anything you even think you’ll need; money will be no obstacle,” Beck opened his mouth to interject but the man pointed a hand out to silence him, “and I ask for no credit for your inventions as I am well aware of your… history with Stark. So be easy knowing I am no _Tony Stark;_ the only demand I have is that, if you do so accept, you will learn to work well with others,”

Mulling over his options – he had to remember this man knew his identity, he could expose him at any moment so delicacy was key. Slowly Beck pursed his lips as a thought struck him, “And what if I refuse?”

“Though I would find that most upsetting, I have people everywhere – spies – so I know lots of things. Let’s just say I have my own suspicions on who the boy in his pyjamas is. If _you_ won’t tell me I _will_ find out myself and then you better hope you have something else worth my time if you change your mind in the future.”

Keeping his face as stoic as he could manage, Beck allowed the subtle threat wash over him before asking his next question, “And how would you provide all this so-called money. It appears you know all about me but I know nothing of you; I don’t like working looking up.”

“A fair point, Mr Beck. I suppose this will instil confidence into you,” From his pocket, the man slid a business card from across the table. When he could finally read it, Beck’s eyes widened – how did he not see it… not place it. God, he really was an idiot.

“You’re Norman Osborn” He didn’t exactly mean to say it, it had been more of an escaping thought, “What could you possibly want with Spider-Man?”

“All in time; my reasons are my own, Mr Beck just as yours and everyone else’s willing to help. But, yes, Oscorp is more than willing to fund your next _show-stopping, Spider-killing_ act – all I need is a name,” The shady businessman demanded, knowing he had won already won.

“He goes to Midtown Tech,” Beck smirked impressed but not willing to play his full hand yet – silently and stoically overjoyed with the leverage ambiguity gave him over Norman Osborn since, now that Tony Stark was dead, Osborn was the wealthiest man in New York and by extension one of the wealthiest people in America. Hell, maybe even the world so if anyone could provide him with the resources to finally deal with Parker, it would Norman. This man certainly was no Tony Stark and that made Beck smile cruelly.

“That’s the spirit,” If Osborn was upset he still didn’t have a name, he did well to hide it as he grinned devilishly, “Shall we?” He stood up slowly as Beck headed straight for the café exit, Norman supposed for a dead man a public café was a little too on-the-nose for laying low. He probably had some safe house somewhere to scuttle back too, that or some kind of cardboard box waiting for him in an alley. Really, the man had let himself go – not even the silly sunglasses the man was wearing could hide it. ‘ _Oh, how the mighty fall’_ He joked to himself and, without looking, he tossed a 100$ bill onto the table. He signalled to a waitress before turning to meet with Beck again who was already waiting expectantly for him outside to further discuss the business deal. 

As he walked out, he chuckled to himself, “Midtown Tech, huh?”

* * *

“For somebody with super-human abilities,” Michelle joked quietly as Peter came rushing over visibly shaken and exhausted. They hadn’t had any shared lessons so lunch was the first time either she or Ned had even spotted Peter, “Keeping time is definitely not one of them. What’s the excuse today?” Though she did well to hide it, Peter could tell she was trying to pretend their trip had never happened… If only…

“Hey, I’m not the one who decided to hold a gas station up at gunpoint before school, is that excuse enough from homeroom… and most of the morning?” Peter Parker – Spider-Man – defended himself with no bite going along with the joke as he smiled at Michelle weakly. Although his alter-ego had once again saved the day, it hadn’t been as easy a victory as it normally was for Spider-Man. Following the death of Mysterio, the hours of sleep he was getting seemed to only be going down, and the hours he spent on patrol seemed to skyrocket. The idea of someone else dying on his watch terrified him, first it had been Tony and then it was Beck… He couldn’t bear to think who would be next if he slipped up or failed to be somewhere. Juggling Peter Parker and Spider-Man had never been so hard: he hated missing school but the constant fear of missing a tragedy hit harder; the Avengers were no longer around – it suddenly felt as if everything was now his responsibility and it weighed too much that even Spider-Man couldn’t carry it some days. Those were the days Peter Parker got it worst.

Despite everything Mysterio had done to hurt him and his friends, he couldn’t shake the shadow of guilt that lingered. It shouldn’t have come to that; Quentin should have been sent to jail – he should have gotten help for his issues or at least he should have spent the rest of his life thinking about what he did to deserve ending up in prison. Evil super-villain or not, Beck was just another extremely troubled man – a man failed by Spider-Man that, with the right care, could have then gone on to get help. Vulture and Shocker had gone to prison and, as far as he was aware, they were safely away from the public and no longer a threat – was it so wrong to wish the same for all his enemies despite their crimes? Vulture and Shocker had caused death and destruction too – what made them so different? Did they then, by this logic, deserve to have died too for their sins? Peter Parker could never wish the death of anybody – even Mysterio. He deserved a second chance just as anyone… Or, at least, that was how his uncle had raised him to believe and he was the wisest man Peter knew.

“Hey, dude, you okay?” Ned asked gently with a knowing concerned glance, bringing Peter to the present and to the realisation of just the magnitude of tiredness he felt weighed down by. It had been weeks from the events of London, but it still haunted him; Ned and MJ had been there every late night call he woke them up with. He couldn’t have asked for better friends and, in return, he had been there for them whenever they needed. After all, they had gone through trauma too no matter how they tried to belittle it compared to his just because he was Spider-Man. Despite what they insisted, he knew it was his fault for their suffering too – that was what hurt most of all. He had put his friends directly in the firing line because of his naivety.

“Yeah,” He shared a thankful smile with his best friend, “Thanks, Ned,” He said quietly not sure if he was lying or how he was feeling. Ned’s face told him he understood and Peter made a note to call him later after school to talk.

“Well,” Michelle continued now at his side trying her best to keep the conversation from diving into the despair she sensed as the direction it was going in, “If you _had_ been in homeroom or around at all this morning, you would have met our new classmate,” Almost comically it was at this moment he finally noticed the taller boy standing loosely by Ned’s side sticking out painfully like a sore thumb as he rocked backwards and forwards on his heels uncomfortably. Just his jacket alone looked like it could cost more than Peter’s apartment and he could see no imperfections from his hair down to his shoes – everything about this boy looked worth millions. Even his bag looked designer, despite how unusually worn it appeared compared to the rest of his freshly bought outfit as if it was the only thing that had actually been used more than once. However, despite all this, plainly underneath his jacket he wore the familiar Midtown Tech blue hoodie reminding Peter this was a student like no other; that this boy was on the same level as them all – or at least while he was in the classroom. There was no argument the minute they stepped outside the red carpet would be rolled out for this rich teen.

“Huh, hi?” Awkwardly Peter raised his hand and gave a little pathetic wave in acknowledgement.

Noticing this as his cue, the clean-cut, dark ginger-haired boy abruptly stopped dodging Peter as a small unsure smile materialised upon his face. He took a step forward and reached out hand Peter was convinced had never done a day’s work before, “Hi you’re Pete, right?”

“Yeah,” His voice cracked just enough that he internally cringed hard, “I’m Peter” Warmly he accepted his hand, the boy had a business man’s handshake. It was strange but that was something he had learnt from hanging around Tony and it did nothing but create millions of questions Peter had for his new friend about just who exactly he was. After Beck’s betrayal, he found himself questioning everything and everyone – even when there was no reason too. Still, he hid his fears, smiling back easily at the lankier boy, though he _still_ couldn’t shake the feeling was wrong. Something just wouldn’t stop eating away at him; it wasn’t quite a ‘ _peter-tingle’_ feeling, but there was just something… off about this boy. Anyway, Peter reigned himself in from the crazy theories that just flew through his head in less than a few seconds and listened as he introduced himself;

“Cool. I’m Harry”

**Author's Note:**

> Hehe yeah, I may have looked on the wiki for those fake Mysterio names...  
> Also, I know Peter shouldn't blame himself for a literal super-villain's death after said villain tries to kill not only him, but all his friends and innocents too but I think Peter is too 'good' to not feel at least something for a man he trusted enough to emotionally spill to and give EDITH. *shrug* Poor boy probably has trust issues now :(  
> Plus I know it was originally Doc Ock who formed the Sinister Six but I just love Harry too much and thought it was a good opportunity to slide that in as Norman isn't stupid - he can piece it together it's someone in that class and what better than to have an inside man to check! (This is gathered from his constant obsession with Spider-Man that is pretty much in every version there has ever been of Norman in various media types)  
> Besides, he's is one scary dude and I can't wait for Green Goblin to officially be in the MCU! Green Goblin and Mysterio are my favourite Spider-Man villains lol and I would love to see them team up to take MCU Peter down...  
> Anyway, please let me know what you thought of my first fic like if it even made any sense (which I hope it did) or there's something I need to fix :)


End file.
